Arthur Pendragon's Guide to Handling Ultimatums
by dustdancingintheflickerlight
Summary: When Arthur Pendragon's father orders him to marry by his 25th birthday or lose out on his inheritance, he fears for the future of the charity he has intended to set up ever since he was a teenager. One night, drowning his sorrows in a local bar, Arthur witnesses one of struggling magician Merlin Emrys' shows. Screw the person his father wants him to be. [ModernAU]
1. Chapter 1

Hello, this is my first Merlin fanfiction! I've not long started watching the series even though I kinda knew how it ended due to spoilers. I knew the pain I was going to inflict onto myself yet I still did it, and now I'm having withdrawal symptoms. I've became a bit obsessed with Modern AU's lately, and I found this prompt last night:

**Pairing: Arthur/Merlin**

**Prompt: ****Arthur Pendragon is the son of a wealthy businessman who must marry by his 25th birthday or lose the inheritance he plans to use to fund his own charity. He sees Merlin Emrys, a struggling magician, perform one night and is smitten; Arthur makes Merlin an offer he can't refuse.**

**What you'd really like to see: An angsty start of the relationship (because of the offer) but with a happy ending.**

**What you really don't want to see: No rape or anything. The sex must be consensual.**

**Other comments: Not really. Would love to see Morgana stick her nose into Arthur's business tho :)**

I'd credit whoever's prompt it is but I'm sorry, I really couldn't find them! If you just happen to be reading this, please let me know! Enjoy, and please leave a review, I'd love to know what anyone thinks, good or bad X

* * *

Arthur Pendragon shifted uncomfortably in the plastic waiting room chair – another reason to vaguely dislike his father. The man was close to becoming one of the richest men in the county, he certainly was the richest in the city, yet he elected to furnish his main headquarters with the shittiest quality furniture he could find. It was a stark contrast to how Uther Pendragon had decided to decorate his office, a room bigger than most student flats in town; his own personal chair was made from the finest dark brown leather, with a specially designed back to prevent aches and pains because as much as the entrepreneur wouldn't admit it, he _was_ getting on a bit.

"Mr Pendragon," a silky voice called, wrenching Arthur's attention away from checking his email on his business phone. It was Sophia, his father's secretary, a young woman who Arthur may have found attractive if he wasn't completely the other way inclined. "Your father will see you now."

He made his way towards the office, pausing for a moment outside. He genuinely didn't know what his father wanted from him. It didn't seem to be a special day – normally Uther only requested his son's presence during the formal signing of important deals or at their annual family dinner along with Morgana, and he always briefed him in advance. Taking a deep breath, Arthur painted a cordial smile on his face and entered.

"Dad," said Arthur. "You asked to see me."

Uther Pendragon was lounging in the aforementioned chair; skim reading over what seemed to be old contracts and clutching an almost empty glass of scotch. He looked up. "Yes, Arthur, I'm glad you could make it. Please have a seat."

Arthur obliged, pulling off his jacket as he did. It was strangely warm in the office. "I wasn't aware of anything in particular happening today. Is everything okay?"

"And I wasn't aware I needed an excuse to meet with my only son," There was something... different about Uther, something Arthur couldn't quite put his finger on just yet. The older man gestured to the bottle of scotch. "Care for one?"

"I'm good, thanks."

Uther would not relent. "Just the one, my boy, I have something I wish to discuss with you and I believe it may go down easier with a drop of alcohol inside you."

Arthur really didn't want to drink; he was going out later that evening, some gig that he wasn't the slightest bit interested in but had been roped into by his best friend, Leon. Drinking in the day time often left him with a dull headache, and he needed all the energy he could muster for tonight. There was something in his father's words, though, and he found himself graciously accepting the glass. He took a small sip, and asked: "What is it?"

There was an awkward silence; only the faint ticking of the clock hanging on the wall could be heard before Uther straightened his posture, poured yet another scotch and began his story.

"Arthur, as you know how, I worked incredibly hard to build my empire. Your grandfather may have been a successful man, but towards the end of his days he squandered his fortune on, shall we say _anaesthetics_. He foolishly thought the only thing that could rid him of his depression was alcohol. I was left with a failing business on the edge of bankruptcy."

Knuckles tightening around his glass, Arthur supressed the urge to roll his eyes; he wouldn't outright disrespect his father. However, he was old enough to know that Uther spoke only of his father when he had had a little too much to drink. His eyes flickered discretely over to the bottle of alcohol.

"I know, Dad. You re-built my grandfather's business and were the youngest recipient of the prestigious business man of the year award in its history. What has this got to do with me?"

"It has everything to do with you, son. Once everything settled down, I made two promises." This caught Arthur's attention. He hadn't heard this part of the tale before. "One was that I wouldn't remember my father as a drunk, I would remember him as the father who loved and protected his family with everything he had. The second," Uther paused, clearing his throat as if he wasn't quite comfortable with the next words. "The second was that I would never burden any child of mine with the burden I faced. I would give them everything I could."

"You always have. I had the best education anyone could've wished for. I've wanted for nothing."

"Yes," Uther drawled, his tone noticeably changing. There seemed to be bitterness in his voice. "Yes, I have. And how have you repaid me, Arthur? You have insisted on leading this ridiculous… _bachelor_ life."

He wasn't sure where this was coming from. Arthur and Uther had their differences but one constant was that Uther had always made sure he instilled the importance of hard work into his son. Arthur did work hard at his job, so much so that the dig irritated him.

Some days he hated the fucking place with all his heart but mostly it was enjoyable enough not to quit on the spot. "Dad… I'm not long out of university! I'm focusing on learning the tricks of the trade, just as you wish..."

"When I was your age, boy, I was married with a stable business and a child on the way. All you have a flat and a job that _I_ secured for you."

In all truthfulness, his father _had_ secured the job for Arthur and he would admit that. Growing up, all of interests conflicted with his inevitable destiny; taking over Pendragon Industries. From a young age it was instilled in Arthur that one day he would have responsibilities his friends would never even dream of, and he made the childish mistake of romanticising his future into what he wanted it to be, instead of the boring reality of accountancy and contracts.

His father was one of the most powerful men in the country, and everyone wanted a piece of him. It wore Uther Pendragon down and when Arthur's beloved mother passed away a couple of months after his first birthday, the man was blinded to anything that wasn't work.

Those around him thought it was simply a grieving process. But when Uther increasingly neglected his duties as a father, often working so late he could go days without even seeing Arthur, the family doctor and close friend Gaius Green, who had diagnosed and treated Ygraine, held an intervention. It was then that Uther confided in Gaius that he had got the wife of a close friend and important business associate pregnant. He had two children, and didn't know how to deal with either of them. Morgana came to live with them when she was nine, and from that day on, the three of them had relatively close relationships, hindered only by the air of formality that Uther had insisted on raising them with.

"I'm sorry if you think I've wasted my potential," started Arthur, stopping when he realised he had nothing to apologise for. He was living his life the way he wanted to and in his opinion, his father should be proud to have raised such an independent son. "But I have worked my way up the ladder. When I first started here…"

"Yes, yes, I know," Uther glanced at the clock before waving a hand and cutting Arthur off. "Now I have an important meeting to attend shortly, so I'll get straight to the point. I've made a decision concerning your inheritance."

He should've known. That's always what it boiled down to. Arthur was guaranteed Pendragon Industries should his father die but everyone knew Uther also had millions hidden away in Swiss bank accounts, and the elder man had never approved of what his son intended to use it for. To establish a charity in his mother's name that would cover a range of needs including help for single parents, a cancer foundation and bursaries for those who could not afford to pay university fees. The Pendragon name was so influential; it may as well be used for good.

"We've talked about this, Dad. It's _my_ inheritance. The charity will bring great publicity to the business."

"Charity breeds dependency, Arthur. You will lose the respect of high-end businessmen, people that are absolutely essential to the survival of Pendragon Industries. Alas, I know how strong-willed you are, which is why I have set a condition." Somehow, Uther had the power to create tension with his own words. He was stony-faced. "You have until your 25th birthday to marry."

Arthur paled, all the blood draining from his face. He had to admit, he was not expecting that. "I have to w-what?"

"If you do not adhere to my condition, you will not receive any money from me. If you do comply, you will receive your inheritance on your 25th birthday," explained the older man, completely disregarding the look of shocked horror painted on his sons face. "I'm not getting any younger, Arthur. I would like you to take over the business earlier than I originally intended."

"You're retiring?" His father had never seemed like the settle-down-and-do-gardening-all-day kind of guy, plus he was widower with two grown children and not many friends who didn't double up as business associates. "Seriously?"

"Not exactly," said Uther, moving over to the filing cabinet in the corner. He pulled out a folder and placed it in front of Arthur. "I have my eye on some land bordering the city, as well as some other projects in the pipeline."

Arthur quickly glanced over the documents in the file. On the front messy black ink scrawled 'Ealdor' and the images showed a picturesque, quiet-looking village Arthur knew to be on the outskirts of Camelot. He raised an eyebrow. "You're buying a village?"

"I'm involved in a project that will benefit thousands of people, Arthur. The land Ealdor covers could house so many. It's a waste, really. The upcoming flats will have much more purpose."

Despite his growing up in privilege, Arthur and his sister Morgana had always acknowledged it and sympathised with those of lower class. It was a kindness Arthur learned when he and his nanny were locked out of his childhood home after she had collected him from primary school. They were both soaked to the bone and the nanny – _Violet_, remembered Arthur, _her name was Violet and she helped me learn my times tables_ - decided to bring the young boy back to her own flat until she could get in touch with his father. He remembered sitting on her living room floor watching television, asking her where all the other rooms where. Why did she only have one bedroom and why was there a big pile of unwashed clothes in the kitchen, didn't someone do that for her?

It was rather chilling how simply Uther put it. In other words, he was punishing the poor to feed the rich. Arthur could feel rage simmering in his bones but chose to ignore it, remembering his father's earlier words. _You are to marry. _"Sounds... interesting, Dad, but I am struggling to understand what this has this got to do with me getting _married_?"

"I will hand my business over a hell of a lot easier knowing you're in a stable relationship with a woman who you can have a family with."

It was clear Uther was choosing his words carefully, mentioning women and families, two things he couldn't have if he carried on with his 'phase', as Uther so charmingly insisted on describing Arthur's sexuality.

Arthur wanted to say dear god you are the world's most ridiculous man, are you living in the stone ages, I'm not going to marry a woman and live in misery for money, and if I did, where would I find one who was willing to marry within a couple of months? But the intimidation and loyalty he'd always shown his father won again. "And if I refuse?"

"You don't get to refuse, Arthur. It isn't a request. If you refuse, you will be cut off. I sincerely hope you make the right decision."

And with that, Uther Pendragon made a swift exit, leaving an extremely confused Arthur wondering what the hell just happened, and more importantly, what the _fuck_ he was going to do about it.

* * *

The music in the bar was loud enough to drown out Arthur's thoughts so he couldn't really complain about the quality of the beer. Truthfully, it tasted like piss-water but it was two pound a pint and it seemed pretty strong. He hoped it was strong enough to get him completely obliterated to the point he ended up losing his friends and waking up in a field somewhere with no memory of his life as Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther. He would buy a farm and hide forever - anything was better than the life of misery he was about to consign himself to.

After the meeting with his father he went straight to the bar he was currently residing in, the one he wasn't due to be meeting Leon in for another two hours, deciding to screw his rule of no daytime drinking. Luckily he hadn't had to go into his own office today so had went to meet his father in skinny jeans, a button-up denim t-shirt and his old leather jacket that he insisted on keeping despite being able to afford a hundred new ones. He ordered a beer, a whisky and a packet of crisps to keep the strangled noises of hunger coming from his stomach at bay.

How did this even happen? This morning Arthur had woken up full of the joys of spring; he woke up hangover free despite the 'few-drinks-with-Gwaine' turning into a full on night out down the town, he salvaged a lie-in and had time for a full English at Avalon Café, where his college friend and part-time waitress Elena slipped him a free cup of coffee and he caught a relatively handsome guy staring in his direction.

If only Arthur had had the balls to ignore the incoming call from his father's secretary, do an hour or so's work from home and then watch Netflix in bed like he had originally planned.

A voice he recognised as his half-sisters managed to break him out of his internal anxiety. Looking up, Arthur watched as Morgana sat down opposite him in the booth, stealing a crisp from his half-eaten packet. "You know if the wind changes, your face will stay like that."

"Lowering my chances of marriage even more, then," he mumbled, tipping his head back to get at the dregs stuck at the bottom of his beer bottle. "Where's Leon? I'm pretty sure it was him I was supposed to be meeting, not you."

Morgana narrowed her eyebrows. "He's at the bar with Gwen, you know Gwen, right? Well she had a spare ticket so I thought we could all come together." She shuffled over a little to make space when she noticed the other two making their way over with hands full of glasses. "And don't try and change the subject. What's going on?"

"Dad."

"Oh, I'm shocked," The sarcasm almost dripped off the young woman's tongue. "What's his Lordship done now?"

Their father had positively _doted_ on Morgana as she was growing up, though their relationship grew strained when her half-sister on her mother's side, Morgause Williams, turned up at Morgana's 21st birthday party, determined to form a relationship with her while harbouring an odd resentment against Uther. That and the fact that Morgana's free-spirited, opinionated nature quite obviously clashed with Uther's demand for maturity and control.

Part of Arthur was quite looking forward to seeing Morgana's reaction. Disappointingly, as he reluctantly explained his dilemma including the fact their father was still choosing to completely overlook his sexuality once again, as well as his personal happiness in general, Morgana's face stayed emotionless.

The others had joined them in the booth to hear the tale. Leon had the good-nature to look sympathetic without being patronising and offering the occasional "That's fucked up, mate." Morgana's friend introduced herself to Arthur as "Guinevere, but everyone calls me Gwen," and then spent the next couple of minutes apologising for not remembering the numerous times they had already met. Her reaction was comical, involving literal jaw-dropping and showing that she clearly had the least experience with the customs of Uther Pendragon.

"It's not that bad, I suppose," Arthur wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not. "All I have to do is turn myself straight and find a woman cheap enough to marry me for my money."

"There's enough of them about, just go down to Druid Drive," Leon chuckled, referring to a notoriously posh area in the city full of expensive nightclubs and restaurants, some actually owned or co-owned by Uther. "Follow the smell of perfume and desperation and you'll be sorted."

"Will your father really cut you off over something like this? That's awful!" This time it was Gwen who spoke – still no reaction from Morgana, Arthur noticed, who was staring into her glass of wine as if it was going to grow another head. "I mean, I'm not saying your dad is awful! I'm sure he's lovely... I just..."

For the first time since he arrived there, Arthur felt a genuine smile forming on his face. The biggest problem here was his sexuality, of course; while he could appreciate the fact that Guinevere was incredibly beautiful in a humble way, knowing the arrogance in him knew he could probably charm her into a relationship after a couple of dates, it went against everything he stood for to make himself miserable for the sake of money. There was the charity to think of, though, his life's ambition since he was a teenager. _Oh, for fuck sake._

"Morgs?" asked Leon, his voice soft. The two of them had been in an on-off relationship for the past couple of years. "You're quiet, you okay?"

Abruptly, her glass slammed back down onto the table and it was clear Morgana's silence was masking her underlying rage. "Who the fuck does he think he is?"

"Er, our father?"

"One of the most powerful men in the country?"

"I don't care!" Once again, Arthur was thankful for the loud music so that Morgana's shouting didn't capture the attention of anyone else. She could be truly scary when she wanted to be. "He can't treat people like this, and he certainly can't do it to his own son!"

"Whatever," Arthur stood up, manoeuvring awkwardly past Guinevere, seated next to him. "Can we just get pissed please? I'm buying. What's everyone drinking?"

The young Pendragon arrived back a little while later armed with more drink than anyone asked for, saying the queue was becoming a pain in the arse and anyway, he didn't need an excuse, he was troubled. The four of them chatted idly for half an hour or so about everything from the weather to Leon and Arthur's long-standing joke that they should quit their jobs and start a band with their mates. Gwaine was dead-set on The Knights of the Round Table for a name.

With the bar getting increasingly crowded, Leon volunteered to fight his way through the rabble for another round. It wasn't long before the music was switched off and a chubby man with red cheeks ambled onto the stage armed with a microphone and a stack of prompter cards. He was on for no longer than fifteen minutes, though it felt to Arthur, Gwen, Morgana, Leon and more than likely the rest of the joint like fifteen hours. The jokes were painful. Eventually he coughed out his last pathetic attempt and cleared his throat.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you have all been waiting for… please give a warm welcome the brilliant Merlin Emrys!"


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin Emrys was all mouth and no trousers.

That's the only way Arthur could accurately describe him really – the kid certainly looked the part, possessing an awkward sort of charm that helped him wrap the audience around his little finger while severely lacking in the magic trick area, which is kind of essential if you're going to make a living by claiming to be a magician. 'Making a living' was questionable, actually, if his scrawny frame was anything to go by.

"Bless him," mumbled Guinevere, about ten minutes into the act. There was an air of familiarity in her voice. "He really tries. Never seems to get anywhere,"

Arthur looked to the young girl next to him – missing out only on Emrys trying and failing to catch a rabbit that had escaped his briefcase, _how cliché - _ whose face had contorted into a kind of polite embarrassment, like watching a parent drunk-dancing at a wedding. "You've seen him before then? I didn't expect him to have fans."

"Yeah, um, Merlin's my best friend. We share a flat."

"Oh… well, I mean, he's not _that_ bad, I suppose,"

Guinevere smiled. "It's okay. He knows what people think. He won't give up, though. I think it's quite admirable, really."

"…yeah." And then conversation filtered out comfortably for the rest of the show.

Arthur understood what Guinevere meant. Here was this man on stage, all elbows and knees and lopsided grins, knowing that the majority of the people in the crowd are only here for the laugh. He knew perfectly well that they were laughing at him, rather than his jokes and tricks, and yet he didn't care. He was doing what he loves, after all.

Like the girl said, there _was_ something rather admirable about it.

* * *

The rabble in the audience had died down a little, with many getting bored of standing in a crowd, eager to be drunker than they currently were, and Merlin was relieved. Although he was good at hiding the disappointment he experienced during every gig, the feeling never abated.

As the lights went down in Fyrien Nights and he took his usual place on stage, Merlin remembered his first ever professional gig. It was in secondary school – unpaid, so it wasn't exactly professional, but he liked to remember it as such – and his bones felt like they were going to explode with excitement. The running order changed every-time; the one thing that was absolutely dead-set, however, was the butterflies. Any nervousness was combated by the memories of mastering the butterflies. It didn't matter if any of his other tricks went wrong because he always had the butterflies up his sleeve, metaphorically speaking.

"Right, okay, ladies and gentlemen," It was time for the last illusion. Merlin cleared his throat and grinned. "This next trick is my favourite, and don't worry, it's the last one, so you don't have to put up with me for much longer!"

That, at least, gained a small laugh from the crowd. He noticed Gwen smiling up at him from the audience. She was standing with her friend Morgana, her partner Leon and a man Merlin had never seen before, good-looking in a self-assured sort of way. _Maybe Gwen brought a date? _Whoever he was, he had scepticism in his eyes. Well, that just had to go.

"I'm going to make butterflies appear from thin air."

Merlin knew this trick would be much more appreciated by an audience of kids and not boisterous drunken cynics, mostly of student age or a little older. But money was tight and the owner of the bar was willing to take a chance on him. The relentless optimism instilled in Merlin since he was a child by his mother would blind him to any kind of embarrassment anyone would expect him to feel after his shambolic 'magic' shows and then he would go home, pay his half of the rent and watch a pointless movie with Gwen, feeling like the happiest man in the world. It didn't matter that he wasn't exactly Houdini reincarnate because he hadn't fallen at the first hurdle, given up and consigned himself to a life of misery doing some boring minimum wage job that he hated. That was something nobody could take away from Merlin Emrys.

He cupped his hands to his chin, covering his mouth, and then softly blew into his palms. The wriggling sensation he got was the best part of the whole trick – it was success, and it gave him _butterflies_, if you'll excuse the pun. Dramatically, he dropped his arms to his sides like a soldier and grinned proudly as his little creations danced around the room, capturing the audience's eyes with genuine excitement for the first time all night. It was _amazing_.

"Goodnight, ladies and gentleman… if anyone wants to buy me a drink, I promise I won't say no!"

* * *

It had been a bad day for Arthur Pendragon, but it certainly hadn't been a bad night.

The gig he was absolutely dreading turned out to be more than entertaining, even if it was for all the wrong reasons - he needed reassurance that it wasn't just his intoxicated brain, that Merlin had made butterflies appear out of nowhere. The guy had broken his 'wand' in half despite only touching it once, managed to let a chubby rabbit escape, and tripped himself up on the microphone wires. It was one of the most beautiful things Arthur had ever seen, though he would not be admitting that to Leon or the others; Morgana would never let him life his sappiness down.

Closing time was drawing nearer and nearer. The magician guy had joined them at their booth not long ago, engaging Guinevere in conversation and leaving Arthur feeling like Leon and Morgana's unwanted third wheel. His bottle of beer was empty, and with nobody to talk to, his mind was wandering back to the places he was trying to distract it from. Marriage. Money. Morals. It was time to go home.

"Right, I'm off. See you later, and uh," Arthur caught Merlin's eye. He was actually rather good-looking, in an ethereal kind of way. "Good.. er, good gig."

"Cheers, but you don't have to spare my feelings. You can just tell me I was shit, I really won't mind."

"Well, yeah, you were pretty shit, but God loves a trier." smirked Arthur, immediately wondering why he said it. Merlin was going to think he was some insane bible basher now. _Why do you care what some half-arsed magician thinks of you? Get out of there now, you've had far too much to drink. _

Arthur slung his jacket over his shoulder, mumbled more goodbyes and made his way out of the bar, where the fresh air hit him like a ton of bricks. Sighing, he stopped and rested against the brick wall, closing his eyes. It was times like this he wished he smoked. There was too much on his mind to just go home, go to bed, wake up and go to work. He couldn't act like everything was normal when it wasn't. It was the reason, Arthur had already worked out, that he couldn't get that Merlin out of his mind.

All his life he had been raised believing other peoples perceptions were the most important. Uther had taught him from a young age, sometimes indirectly, that showing weakness was wrong, respect was earned and friendships were bought rather than forged, with their sole purpose being to better your own life in some way. Attachment could lead to all sorts of mistakes - which was why Uther was perfectly okay with his only son marrying for money rather than love. Not that it was going to happen, of course; the government might have managed to push through the same-sex marriage bill but they would have a much greater struggle trying to destroy the homophobia that was deep-rooted in people like Uther Pendragon.

"Where is my money then, you little prick?!"

Arthur's eyes snapped open. There was no-one there.

"I gave you your last warning!"

Instinctively, he followed the raised voices. It probably wasn't a good idea to get involved, having been drinking for hours. Then a new voice could be heard.

It was Merlin, Gwen's friend. He sounded calm, his voice betrayed only a slight nervousness. "I've told you, I'm not giving you anything else!"

When Arthur found them around the back of the building, Merlin was crouched haphazardly by the bins with blood dripping from his nose. There was bruising already forming underneath his left eye. Whoever had been shouting was nowhere to be seen, so Arthur offered the other man a hand and helped him get to his feet. Merlin didn't look shocked, he didn't even look embarrassed that someone had overheard his altercation. He just smiled.

"My mate Will always said I was a push-over. I guess I didn't realise he meant it's really easy to actually push me over,"

Arthur let out a laugh. "It's probably cause you're so skinny, a bit of wind and you'd be on the floor."

"Funny, yeah..." muttered the raven-haired man, pressing two fingers to the tip of his nose in an attempt to stop the blood flow. "Listen, erm, about what you just heard, if you did hear anything, do you mind not letting Gwen know? She worries."

"As long as you tell me who the hell that was."

* * *

Merlin should have seen him coming really. He had been ducking Cane's calls for days and had purposely avoided any place in town where they might have bumped into each other. He had no money - what was Cane expecting? Struggling magicians don't tend to come with hundreds of pounds to spare, even horrifically under-appreciated ones who could create real-life butterflies from nowhere. Merlin constantly had to remind himself why he and Will had decided to do this - to save their families the trouble.

It was well known that a couple of wealthy entrepreneurs were teaming up to head a new project that would see his home town, Ealdor, flattened and replace d with generic blocks of flats. Cane and a few of his money-grabbing thugs had decided to strike while the town was at its most vulnerable, creating a money-lending scheme. All the residents were terrified of their imminent homelessness so Cane was able to charm his way into their trust. He was a monster of the worst kind, and Merlin wouldn't let his mother suffer at his hands. He and Will took it upon themselves to meet with Cane and his men, promising to pay off their mothers debts. Merlin had met the target without much trouble, taking on a couple of part-time jobs in between gigs, yet it wasn't enough. Cane demanded more, claiming Hunith owed interest.

Merlin hadn't known that Arthur - who turned out to be Morgana's half-brother, not Gwen's date - was listening around the corner. He was grateful that Cane had left before Arthur had had the chance to intervene. If his muscles were anything to go by, he probably could have held a good fight but Cane was relentless, and Merlin really didn't want to be the one to explain Arthur's broken bones to his sister. One thing he wasn't grateful for, however, was his next sentence.

"As long as you tell me who the hell that was."

_It's none of your business, _he wanted to say. But he couldn't, because Arthur seemed genuinely interested, and other than Gwen and one crazy fan he had almost had to get a restraining order against last year, no-one really took an interest in Merlin's life. "He's no-one."

"No offence, mate, but you don't look like the sort of person to go around starting fights behind pubs.."

And so Merlin gave in, and spent ten minutes in the cold night air telling this stranger - because lets face it, he was pretty much a stranger - about Cane and Ealdor, loan sharks and threats, terrified mothers and idiot sons, and pretended not to notice when Arthur's face drained of colour at the mention of his home-town.

* * *

Ealdor.

Where had he heard that name before? _I'm involved in a project that will benefit thousands of people, Arthur. The land Ealdor covers could house so many. _

The village that his father and his business pals were going to destroy. It suddenly hit him - Ealdor wasn't just a statistic or a measurement, it was a real place with real people that had lived real lives there. People like Merlin, a seemingly nice man trying to make a living. Arthur's rather dusty conscience struck.

He took out his wallet and pulled a couple of notes out of it. He didn't know how much was there. It didn't matter. It was still going to be a patronising gesture even if it was £1 or £100. "Take this,"

"No, I can't take your money. I barely even know you."

"Call it a loan. Or not, given the circumstances. Call it whatever you like, I don't care."

And with that Arthur turned and walked in the direction of the nearest taxi rank, hoping beyond all hope that karma would reward him with a complete re-write of this fucking day.

* * *

AN: Thank-you for the response! It means a lot.

I'm finding out how hard it is to write MerlinxArthur. I ship ArthurxGwen above all really, but I have been reading loads of Merthur fic recently and decided to give it a go. I'm trying not to rush into it and do the whole love at first sight thing. So I hope this chapter is okay (The only part I'm not really happy with is the last Arthur PoV, it seems a little rushed).

Please leave a review! :)


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